From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
The Celestine is always bathed in twilight, so it doesn't matter that it's technically the middle of the evening (or later, Mateo doesn't know and neither does he care). He's got a thing to do, and not only does he need the assistance of the vast gardens to complete it, he'd also quite like to enjoy their tranquility to still his tangle of a thousand thoughts.
There's going to be a party, apparently, and he's supposed to have an outfit. And Mateo Taliesin will not be seen dead in anything less than spectacular, even if he has to make it himself. He also suffers from ADHD and a number of other problems, probably idea-itis, and once the seed of his creative impulse has been planted, he has no choice but to nurture it.
And so when he sits himself down on a clear grass patch, it's with what looks like half a greenhouse with him. The length of sentient vine he's cultivated and brought along is impressive, and the wheelbarrow filled with various potted blooms might well give away his plan.
Yes, Mateo is making a gown out of flowers.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
Lena had been burning the midnight oil too – in between cups of cocoa and tea, set up along her own path amidst the greenery and enclosures. Listening to Mittens hum or stringing along her meandering melodies, cloth over her shoulder, embroidery needles in her basket, occasional night checks along the enclosures feeding her restless wanderings.
Which was how she found Mateo, in similar circumstances as her, apparently, though she wouldn’t know it until far later. “Mateo,” she greeted, eyes flickering with keen interest towards his wheelbarrow of petals and flowers, half-inquiring over their distinctions and beauty. But that didn’t slip from her, not yet anyway, instead winding her fingers over the makeshift leash accompanying Mittens (who, of course, had wanted to immediately lunge for the young Accepted). “How are you? May I join you?”
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
With his tongue stuck out in concentration, Mateo has been busily (and very carefully) attempting to affix a burst of colourful lilies to a portion of the vine that will act as a shoulder piece of his gown. And when Lena calls his name he does look up, but his tongue isn't put away until he speaks. "Ah, Lena," he greets, a dimpled smile on his face as he nods an enthusiastic agreement (his hands are too full to gesture, which is a travesty).
"Of course you can join me. How are things out in the Celestine?" he asks, gently setting down the knitted together lilies and reaching into the wheelbarrow for his next set of additions - some snowdrops, as it happens. "Are you making something?" He nods at the cloth on her shoulder.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
Lena wasn’t the type to laugh at others, though the image of Mateo’s concentration was fitting enough for a light smile. “Your spread is beautiful,” and she eyed them again before sitting down, casting out her own wake nearby. Placing her basket along the fresh grass, and ensuring Mittens had its tether still instilled along her belt, she tended to the other inquiries. “They’ve been well.” Nothing like the war’s midst, when everything had been a chaotic mess – enclosures opened, animals running wild. “How are things for you?” Perhaps peacetime, the art and nature of repose, had been kind to the youth too.
The Caretaker snagged at her fabric over her shoulder, unfurling the dress in a pool of soft, lavender fabric. “Yes. For the upcoming ball.” Some stitching had already been starting in the corner, a makeshift ivory dragon, to honor her sister, beginning its incline across the bottom hem. She snagged at her needle and thread, beginning to unravel the spool of white along her fingers. “What are you working on?”
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
"Ah, grazie," Mateo says with another warm smile, gazing over his selection of flowers in the wheelbarrow. "If there are any left over, I will be sure to find them a home in one of the enclosures. If that is alright with you, of course." As he speaks and she takes a seat, his fingers are busy threading the living snowdrops along another section of vines.
"I am glad to hear it," he muses regarding the Celestine. "Things have been very well for me. These are all grown from my shop in the Pacifist Plaza. I have also been visiting my sister sometimes, in Torchline." He's yet to persuade Flora up to Stormbreak, but there's always time.
Lena sweeps the fabric over her shoulder and Mateo's blue eyes light up, a dimple appearing on one cheek with his smile. "It looks beautiful," he says, only to realise the ball she's talking about is the same as the one he's thinking of. "Oh! Mine is an outfit for the party as well," he informs her, though of course right now it doesn't look like it. "I wanted to see if I could make something entirely out of flowers."
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
The warmth of her grin remained, nodding at the insinuation of flowers amidst the enclosures. “That would be lovely.” For while the Celestine held magnificent gardens all on its own, the Caretaker would never refuse more art and sway amidst the beauty. Maybe the animals would enjoy them too, in their own ways.
As Mittens rotated its head around in either restlessness or boredom, Lena ignored it for the inquiries and musings, absorbed in the conversation and task at hand. At the notions of all the petals and blossoms being of his own measures and wit, the smile grew wider, far more impressed with his skills. “Your shop must be thriving! I’ll have to stop by sometime.”
She left the semblances of sisters out of the conversation, dissipating the measures into starting the grander scale of the hem dragon. “Thank you,” and her head inclined back to the makeshift tapestry when the reality of his goal mustered its way towards her mind. “Ooh, that’s quite ambitious. What were you thinking?”
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
With his plan for the leftover flowers solidified, it's with a content smile that Mateo reaches for some more snowdrops, only to catch sight of what he swears is a snowball in some kind of a harness. "What is...?" he begins, his curiosity clearly ignited by the small creature (that, he assumes, should not even be).
Blinking back to attention at the mention of his shop, Mateo brightens again and nods to her. "Please do! I believe you would look lovely with some marigolds in your hair." Unfortunately he does not have any in his wheelbarrow to show her - he's going for pastels and whites for this particular outfit.
Speaking of which, he holds up the delicate top half of the weaved together sentient vine, with a burst of lilies at the shoulder and a tunic of snowdrops so far. "I was thinking of creating a train of chrysanthemums and peonies," he explains, gesturing to the wheelbarrow again. "I may need to finish it at home, though. I did not anticipate needing so many." More fool him.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
Used to inquiries about Mittens, including a fair amount still instilled in her mind, she managed a light chuckle. “Mittens. An abominable snowball.” As for how it had come to be, she really had no means of further explanation, other than perhaps the whims of Frey, Rae, or some other random magical assortment. “Tends to be a bit mischievous,” she whispered, though the creature seemed to be pretending not to hear her.
Sliding her needle and thread along the hem again, she persisted in continuing the nature of the dragon set before her, intermingling the woven ties until claws became obvious and known. Listening with her head tilted, her grin softened, delighted, at the semblances of marigolds in hair, or the beautiful nature of such a place. “Very tempting.”
Her eyes flickered back to his creation, marveling at the vines interlaced amidst lilies and snowdrops. “It’s beautiful already,” she murmured, impressed by the craftmanship. Though she wouldn’t reach out and touch it, the splendor was enticing all on its own. “There could be some flowers in these gardens that might be useful?”
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
If the world wasn’t what it was, hearing the words an abominable snowball might have been enough to at least furrow Mateo’s brow; as it stands, though, he merely gives a curious hum of acknowledgement. ”I find that all the best things are,” he whispers back to her on the subject of mischief, not wanting to risk the ire of the snowy menace in its harness.
The fall into a comfortable silence, Lena stitching and Mateo weaving his living flowers, the botanist only glancing up to smile across at the caretaker when she mentions his shop again. ”Well, the doors are always open for a friend,” he tells her, glancing lover the progress she’s making with the dress. ”You are quite a talented seamstress.” He smiles.
Turning his attention down to his own creation, he brightens at the idea of using the flowers from the Celestine as well. “I will definitely consider it,” he says, wondering if he could perhaps do an exchange of flora with the specimens in his wheelbarrow. That feels like a fair trade.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
Laughing at the whisper, and perhaps in some silent agreement, Lena persisted in the undertones. “It tends to wallop others with snow though,” especially unsuspecting victims – and Mittens absolutely heard her, whirling its head around entirely, before settling its stony eyes on the horizon again.
She continued in her stitching, lifting her head every so often to gaze upon Mateo’s progress, suitably impressed each time more flowers were added to the inspired gown. She blushed at the compliment, shaking her head. “Thank you. I learned from my mother.” Snaking another portion of thread through the dragon’s head and nose, she considered the shop aspect the young Accepted had already endeavored. “Will you expand your business to other lands?” The Caretaker could imagine a necessity for some petals and blossoms in each world – especially after years of strife. More changes to bloom and prosper.
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
”I mean, so do I, if I can get away with it,” Mateo whispers with a half smile, though of course he doesn’t have the snow immediately at his disposal in the same way as Mittens. He’ll just have to wait for Deepfrost again, he supposes. Glancing back up at Lena to admire the stitch work on the dragon’s head - he has just added his first trail of peonies - Mateo sets his hands in his lap to give his fingers a rest for a moment.
”She taught you well,” he murmurs, absently cracking his knuckles as he considers her next question. ”I’d like to, yes,” he confirms with a nod. ”I have a skyship, and I’d like to be able to use it as a sort of travelling shop.”
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
Lena sighed and shook her head, but laughed all the same. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to leave Mittens tied and tethered in its harness, and she’d need to explore some training and boundaries with it – but for the moment, it worked. A temporary solution. “I’m not going to encourage either of you,” she hummed in return, finishing another portion of the dragon with fast needlework and hardened convictions.
Moving onwards, she cast another spool of thread, snagging at other hues to complement the hem, with a lingering smile for the compliment. “Thank you.” But at his next line of sentiments and semblances, her features rounded into a delighted refrain, smile a beacon. “Amazing! You can make timely deliveries.” Her imagination ran wild with the possibilities: provisions for those who were unwell, special occasions, festivals and the like. “Was it difficult to learn how to fly one?”
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
who are these people? I just woke up in my underwear
"You are a very wise caretaker, Lena," Mateo says with a crooked smile, glancing fleetingly at the abominable snowball before his gaze returns to his outfit lest he accidentally draw its ire. He can't afford to have any of the delicate blooms he's weaving into the vines to be walloped by snow. Anyway, the conversation, buoyed by their hard work and developing fashions, moves to his business and his hopes for the future.
At the mention of flying the skyship, however, Mateo can't help but bark out a laugh, his fingers back to busily weaving peonies against the vines. "Oh, I imagine it is very difficult," he says warmly, nodding to her. "I cannot fly one myself. Do you remember my friend Everest? He is learning to be a skyship pilot, so if I ever need to move the shop, he kindly does it for me," he explains.
no liquor left on the shelf I should probably introduce myself
hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul
His statement earned a shake of her head. “I do try.” Persistent with work on the hem, and nearly finished with its design, she designated another dove-like hue for more outlines and figures, while chatting away. Her eyes widened at the laugh, but only to be followed by one of her own, cheery and melodious. “Friends in high places,” intending for the double meaning, with a modest grin thereafter. “But very convenient for you.” Sneaking another length of thread along claws and wings, she pondered for a moment.
The nature of the conversation lingered upon her tongue for a moment, not quite yearning to yield it into a serious topic; but curious nonetheless. “What are your thoughts on Stormbreak lately?”
and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all
